Oliver left the riverside and moved deeper into the forest.
After listening to those three examinees talk, he had quietly decided to change his strategy.
No more stealing kills.
No more sandal marks on people who could identify him later.
He move deeper into the forest to avoid meeting any groups that could point him as the sandal monster.
"Senior Ethan," he said, pushing aside a low branch, "from now on, we should find our own targets."
"In other words," Ethan replied from the bag, "you are scared of being surrounded by angry parents."
The first thing Oliver imagined was a crowd of middle aged women holding sandals and pointing them at him.
His body shivered at the thought. He coughed to cover it up.
"That too," Oliver admitted.
Then he added in a righteous tone, "but we also need to show my skill.
Now that the academy knows my clever intellect and upright morals, they need to see my combat prowess properly."
Ethan was speechless. Somehow, he felt he was only making Oliver more shameless.
"In that case, we should move closer to water. It will be easier to find beasts that way," he said.
Oliver followed the stream.
"Any living being needs water," Ethan said. "If you find a water source, you can find prey nearby."
It was basic novel wisdom he had picked up from countless stories.
Oliver squinted at the stream.
"You are really knowledgeable, Senior," he said.
"Of course," Ethan replied without shame. "I have a lot of experience and skill. Trust me."
They walked along the stream for a while.
Then Oliver heard it.
A snorting sound.
Roots being dug up.
Something thick moving through bushes.
He slowed down and crouched.
Ahead, in a small open patch near the water, a round shape was chewing on roots.
Oliver peered through the leaves.
It was a boar.
At least, it looked like one.
"Tier 1 beast? Rock boar? But it seem mutated." Ethan identified.
'Why it look like creature from my old world?'
Its skin was soft pink instead of the usual dark brown.
Folds of fat rolled over each other when it moved.
Its ears flopped slightly when it shook its head.
If he ignored the two short tusks on its snout, it looked like a slightly oversized farm pig.
On its forehead, a faint symbol of earth mana glowed from time to time.
Oliver stared. "It looks harmless," he said. "Almost cute."
"Cute my foot," Ethan said. "Be careful of anything of any weird beast in this forest. Never let your guard down."
Oliver looked more closely.
The boar took another bite of roots and chewed noisily, completely relaxed.
"Senior," he whispered, "I will use the same plan. Smoke, ambush, quick finish."
"That is fine," Ethan said. "Remember what I taught you."
He drew on one of his so called novel wisdom techniques, something he had only ever seen in stories but repeated with confidence.
"Move your mana while you move your legs," Ethan said.
"Do not just swing your arms like a broken windmill.
Twist your waist, shift your weight, keep your center low.
Match your breathing with your steps."
Oliver took a deep breath and reached into his pouch.
His fingers brushed the smooth surface of another small sphere.
He had made several smoke devices before coming to the academy.
The materials were cheap, but the design was his own.
The timing runes inside controlled how fast they activated.
The spread pattern was something he had improved three times after testing in the backyard.
That part still made his parents angry.
He rolled the sphere between his fingers.
He waited until the boar lowered its head again. Its snout dug into the ground, searching for another root. Its small tail flicked lazily.
Oliver threw.
The sphere arced through the air and landed right beside the boar's front leg.
Pop.
Thick gray smoke burst out, wrapping around the boar in a few breaths.
The Rock Snout Boar squealed and jerked its head up. It shook violently, trying to clear the smoke, but it was too late.
The haze reached its nose and eyes. It snorted hard, confused and angry.
Oliver held his breath and sprinted forward.
He cut through the edge of the smoke, legs moving the way Ethan had described.
He let a thin layer of mana coat his legs and tightened his muscle, just like Ethan told him.
He approached the boar from the side.
"Aim for the jaw, the ear, the neck," Ethan said quickly.
"Soft spots. Hit, move, breathe. Do not stand still and wait to be trampled."
Oliver had no idea what that meant, but he understood the important part.
Hit where it hurts.
He closed in and threw his first kick at the boar's side, right behind the front leg.
BAM!!!
His foot sank into something soft.
It was like kicking a fat cushion filled with water.
A muffled thud sounded.
The boar squealed, but it did not fly away or even fall.
It just skidded a little and glared blindly in his direction from inside the smoke.
Oliver's face twisted.
"Senior," he thought, "it is like kicking a pile of fat."
"Of course it is," Ethan said. "Look at it. Do not stop. Keep moving. You have already started the fight."
The boar snorted and charged in the direction of the attack.
Its body was like a rolling pink boulder. Its short legs moved faster than Oliver expected.
He jumped to the side. The boar rushed past, barely grazing his hip.
Even that light contact felt heavy.
He stumbled, caught himself, then gritted his teeth and went back in.
He punched.
BAM!!! BAM!! BAM!
His fist sank into thick fat again, barely reaching muscle.
He elbowed the back of its neck.
He kicked its hind leg.
The boar grunted in pain, but its eyes were full of stubbornness.
Instead of retreating, it charged again, swinging its head and trying to hook him with its tusks.
Oliver dodged, jumped, and twisted, using every move Ethan had shouted into his ear during the last few minutes.
It was not some great martial art.
It was a patchwork of common sense, random novel descriptions, and a few things he had done when running away from angry bully back home.
Even so, it worked better than panicking.
His breathing grew heavy. His arms hurt. His legs felt like they were filling with lead.
The Rock Snout Boar also started to slow down. Bruises formed on its neck and sides. Its breath came out in harsh snorts.
"This is bad," Oliver thought. "If this continues, we will both collapse together."
The boar seemed to come to the same conclusion.
It stepped back. Its small eyes flashed.
Mana gathered faintly around its body.
Oliver narrowed his eyes.
"It is charging some attack," he muttered. "Senior, should I get ready to dodge a charge?"
Ethan went silent for a moment.
The mana grew thicker.
The boar's body trembled.
It turned around, but not the way Oliver expected.
It lifted its rear.
Oliver's mind went blank.
A strange sound came out.
Pfft.
A cloud of yellow gas burst from the boar's backside.
It spread out in the air like a dirty mushroom, expanding much faster than Oliver's smoke bomb.
The already thin gray haze around them was swallowed by the yellow immediately.
The smell hit him a moment later.
Oliver's eyes watered.
He tried to hold his breath, but he had already opened his mouth to shout when he saw the boar's pose.
He inhaled at the worst possible moment.
"What is this smell!" he choked.
His throat burned.
His nose burned.
Even his soul felt dirty.
He stumbled back, coughing wildly, eyes streaming.
"This beast spits poison from its butt?" he wheezed.
Inside the bag, Ethan also screamed.
"Retreat, retreat, retreat!" he shouted. "This is not just gas! Do not breathe, do not taste, do not even think about it!"
Even as a sandal, he felt as if the smell was seeping into him.
He did not know if it was his imagination or if the boar's fart was truly poisonous enough to affect even him.
Oliver coughed harder.
Thinking was already impossible. His vision blurred with tears.
The whole area around him turned yellowish and hazy.
Leaves and grass seemed to wilt a little at the edges of the cloud.
Through his watering eyes, he saw the Rock Snout Boar's silhouette.
It snorted proudly, its small eyes full of pride, then turned and ran, its short legs moving surprisingly fast as it escaped upstream.
Oliver dropped to one knee, clutching his nose.
"I am going to roast that pig," he rasped. "Even if I have to chase it to the edge of the world, I will turn it into bacon."
"Calm down first," Ethan coughed. "You will never catch it if you suffocate here."
Oliver crawled away from the thickest part of the yellow gas, dragging himself with his hands until the smell weakened.
Only after several long breaths did he finally manage to stand again.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, then glared in the direction the boar had run.
"That fucking boar!" he said hoarsely.
Ethan tried very hard not to laugh.
"Look at the bright side," he said. "Now you know you can still improve your smoke bomb."
Oliver took another deep breath, regretted it, coughed again, then staggered forward.
"Senior Ethan," he muttered, "no matter what, I am not letting that pig go. I do not care about its core anymore. I want revenge."
"Good," Ethan said. "Like my comrade once said, 'Life is a series of decisions. The important thing is to keep going forward.'"
Oliver gritted his teeth and followed the faint trail of broken grass and hoof prints left behind by the fleeing Rock Snout Boar, his heart full of anger and humiliation.